The Serpent and the Lion
by Sly Severus
Summary: Two young men find themselves together when they're feeling utterly alone. Okay, it seems everyone who reads this wants more. Expect a couple more chapters, but they'll be awhile coming.


The Serpent and the Lion

Hogsmeade was cloaked in darkness when Draco Malfoy Apparated onto the street. The hour was late and many of the businesses were closed for the night. The entire area was eerie and deserted. A chill ran though him and he hurried forward. The last place he wanted to be was alone with his thoughts-with his memories-with his regrets.

He pushed back the door of the Hog's Head and stepped inside. Heat hit him, along with the unpleasant smell that was always present at the pub. Inside the lighting was little more desirable than outside. The place was a dump-hardly an appropriate place for a Malfoy to be seen, but Draco cared little about appearances these days. The Hog's Head provided alcohol and aimless chatter. That made it good enough for him.

Without meeting the barmaid's eyes, he ordered a Fire Whisky, and then settled himself at a rickety table in a far corner where he could see without being seen. He took a sip of his drink before looking around. The liquid burned all the way down. He wasn't used to alcohol, but he'd adjust. Either he'd adjust or become a slave to the awful images forever dancing through his mind.

Glancing around the room, he realized the pub was nearly empty. This didn't surprise him. The Dark Lord was dead. Most witches and wizards were celebrating his demise, heedless to the cost. They were fools-oblivious fools-and how he longed to be like them.

He threw the rest of the drink into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow, ignoring the pain. That was something else he'd have to learn to do-ignore the pain. Already, his head was spinning. After one drink, he was well on his way to getting drunk –and forgetting.

He opened his mouth to yell for another, but the words died on his lips. His eyes landed on another man, sitting at a corner table, trying not to be noticed. He, too, was drinking alone. Unsure if he was seeing properly, Draco rubbed his eyes and looked again. He hadn't drunk enough to warrant hallucinations; so he was forced to conclude the man was indeed real.

Good sense and his remaining dignity told him to remain where he was. To get drunk and forget. To stick with the plan. But the part of him that was still foolish enough to hope pushed him forward, insisted he speak to the man. After all, a lot had happened since they'd last spoken-since the other man saved him while Hogwarts burned around them.

The fool in him won out, as was often the case with Draco Malfoy. He rose and approached the table. The other man looked at him, but offered no greeting. Without asking permission, he slid into the table's empty chair.

"Potter," he said simply in greeting.

"Malfoy," Harry replied.

For a few moments, they said nothing more. Harry nursed his drink while Draco stared at his hands, wishing he still had a drink of his own. He felt ridiculous. Why did he ever think approaching Harry was a good idea?

"I'm surprised to see you out," Harry said just when Draco began to fear the silence would deafen him forever. "After that display at Hogwarts, I suspected Mummy and Daddy would be keeping you under house arrest for fear anything would happen to their precious baby boy."

The words were clearly meant to embarrass him, but failed. Draco was ashamed of many things, but his parents were not among them. He loved his parents and was honored they'd left the Dark Lord's side for him.

Not knowing how else to respond, he attempted a joke. "They're getting better," he said. "Yesterday they let me walk to the edge of our property all by myself."

Potter smirked, but said nothing.

"What about you?" Draco went on. "Shouldn't you be in bed with your precious Weasley Queen? Or did the Weasley's not have enough bed space for the happy couple?"

A cruel comment about Fred's bed being free was on his lips, but he bit it back, ashamed to have even thought it. Some things were simply meant to be left alone. After all these years, Draco was starting to learn that lesson. Perhaps Harry was learning the same lesson, as he hadn't mentioned Lucius' pending trial.

"Is there something you want, Malfoy?"

_Yes_, he thought, but knew he'd never speak the word aloud.

"Just making conversation." Even to him, the words sounded lame. When he wasn't hiding behind a mask of insults, he really had no idea how to talk to Potter. He could feel his fake bravado slipping away.

"It's two thirty in the morning," Harry replied. "Do you really think I'm here for the conversation? And even if I was, do you think I'd want that conversation to be with you?"

The comment stung, and Draco scolded himself for hoping for anything different. Things were always the same with Potter, and they always would be. There may have been a time he could claim that hatred was unwarranted, but those days were long gone.

Despite the great potential for further humiliation, he wanted to say something else-anything else. Even a childish squabble with Potter was better than returning to his dark corner-alone. He desperately wanted to speak, but no words came to him, not even a cold comment. He was at a loss and left with only once choice.

He rose to leave the table, refusing to make eye contact. His cocky sneer had been wiped away, but Potter didn't need to know that.

He'd taken only a step towards his own table when Potter spoke.

"Wait," he said, and then after a pause, "Stay."

His first impulse was to obey, to sit back down and be grateful for the crumbs Potter was throwing his way. However, his small amount of remaining pride wouldn't allow him to give in quite that easily.

"Thought you didn't want to talk to me," he replied.

"You're the only one here," Potter said with a shrug, and then he admitted, "I don't want to be alone right now."

Draco returned to his seat, staring at his hands again. This was ridiculous. Approaching Potter in the first place was ridiculous. He knew he should get up, flee with some small amount of self-respect, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Are they really hovering?" Harry asked. "Your parents, I mean."

"Yeah," he replied, unsure why Harry would care. "They're pretty overprotective, at the moment. I have to wait until the middle of the night to leave the house so Mother doesn't panic."

"Must be nice," Harry muttered, draining his drink and motioning for another. "Having them care about you."

"I don't like seeing them so worried. The war is over and they're still so nervous. They just keep saying that they almost lost me." He thought of Harry's parents, unable to fuss over him. Maybe Potter's loneliness was even greater than his own. "It has its moments though," he added.

Harry gave a slight smile, but when he didn't speak Draco continued. "But you've got a whole house full of Weasleys to worry about you. I know it's not the same as having your parents, but you're not totally alone."

He questioned the words the second they left his mouth. Was he really comparing a parent's love to a house of star struck losers? He couldn't picture his life without his parents, and he didn't want to. The year his father had been in Azkaban was enough for him. Before he could apologize, Harry replied.

"Life at the Weasleys' isn't the same," he said. "They're not the same-not without Fred."

At this, Draco was at a loss for words. Under normal circumstances, this would be his cue to say something cruel and arrogant. For the first time, no nasty words came to mind. While he was left speechless the awkward silence returned.

"Why are you really here, Malfoy?" Harry finally asked.

"I came for a drink," he replied defensively. "I am allowed to do that, you know. You don't own the pub, Potter."

"You didn't have to sit with me to get a drink," he pointed out.

"And I'm starting to regret that I did." The statement was a lie. He wanted to stay exactly where he was. He just wanted Harry to want the same thing.

"Then go."

"You asked me to stay."

"I changed my mind."

"Fine," Draco snapped. "I'll go. Why don't you come with me?"

Harry's mouth twisted into an 'o' of shock that Draco might have found amusing if he were less humiliated. He never intended to say anything like that. How could his own voice betray him so drastically?

"Malfoy?" Harry watched him with an expression of wonder plastered to his face.

Draco was glad he couldn't see his own face, which was doubtlessly a mask of pure panic. He had to say something, but words continued to elude him. If only they'd eluded him in the first place, he wouldn't be sitting her looking like a fool. Why did he even approach Potter? These showdowns always ended badly.

"Do you mean it?" Potter asked, breaking into his convoluted thoughts.

Confused, Draco started at him. He must've heard wrong. That or Harry planned to mock him for offering the invitation. One single Fire Whisky was getting him into an awful lot of trouble. How could his father and Snape drink so much of the stuff? Of course, neither of them was known for their ability to stay out of trouble.

Taking a drunken leap of faith, he decided to answer the question honestly. Really how much worse could the night get?

"Sure," he shrugged like it was no big deal, even though his hands were trembling with the fear of rejection. "Unless you want to stay in this dank pub all night. It's pretty clear that you don't want to go home."

Harry's eyes clouded over as he considered. Glancing at Harry's second empty glass, Draco began to wonder if he wasn't the only one feeling a little tipsy. Maybe he'd luck out and neither one of them would remember this in the morning.

"What the hell?" Harry finally said, slamming his hands on the table. A few curious patrons looked their way, but quickly returned to their drinks. At the Hog's Head, even the Great Harry Potter was of little interest.

Hopping to his feet, Harry headed for the door, stumbling every few steps. There was no longer any doubt that he'd had too much to drink. Draco trailed after him. No one stopped them to pay for their drinks. Maybe the name Harry Potter meant something at the Hog's Head after all. Or maybe his father would get an unexpected bill from the charming establishment.

Once outside the pub they were greeted by a cool breeze. The fresh air helped to sober Harry as he walked steadily until halfway down the street where he stopped to wait for Draco.

"Where are we going?" he asked once Draco stood beside him. Another sign of his re-emerging sobriety, he was starting to wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

Not for the first time that night, Draco realized he had no idea what he was doing. When he asked Harry to leave with him he'd never intended to voice the question. Even after the words left his mouth, he expected to be mocked. Never had be expected Harry to actually leave the Hog's Head with him. Now that he had Harry, he realized he had no clue what to do with him.

"Malfoy?" he asked. "Seriously, where are we going?"

Without much time to debate, he thought of only one place they could be alone together.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Harry scrunched his eyes in such a strange manner that he looked like an ape. Granted the question was ridiculous, but he really didn't have to imitate a primate.

"Of course not," he finally replied. "How drunk do you think I am?"

"Too bad."

Acting on impulse alone, he grabbed Harry and Apparated them both back to the outskirts of Malfoy Manor before Harry could do anything to stop him. He knew he was acting on impulse because good sense would've prevented him from doing it.

With a loud pop he was standing in his favorite place with Harry beside him. They were in a small clearing surrounded by trees. A miniature lake lay in front of them. His father taught him to swim in that lake. The memory felt a million miles away.

He sat on a stone by the lake and watched Potter. The sight was really pretty comical. He stumbled a few times, trying to take in all his surroundings at once. When he glanced toward the moonlit sky, he lost his balance, falling to the ground beside Draco's rock.

"Where are we?" he asked, not bothering to get up. Draco considered it a good sign that he wasn't reaching for his wand.

"On the outskirts of Malfoy Manor," he said. "This is my favorite spot on the property."

"Mafoy Manor." Harry sat up straight, gaping at him. "I get that you never liked me, but are you trying to get me killed? If you're father sees me here…"

"He's already standing trial," Draco snapped, ignoring the comment about his not liking Harry. It was much easier to defend his father than go down that road. "Do you really think he'd be foolish enough to murder the Chosen One? Besides, it's three a.m. Unless he's recently taken up sleepwalking, I doubt we'll see him tonight."

Harry relaxed, but only slightly. "I shouldn't be here."

"Leave if you want," Draco replied, but he hoped Harry wouldn't accept the offer. "There are no protective spells here. You can Apparate if you want."

He didn't Disapparate. Actually, he didn't even stand up. He just looked around the clearing, taking everything in.

"It really is beautiful here," he said at last. "So peaceful." An owl hooted in the distance as if to enforce his point.

"I used to come here to think," Draco confided. "Now I come here to avoid my thoughts. It's nice to share it with someone other than my parents."

"You have thoughts?" Harry cracked.

"Git."

"Prat."

Draco smiled. Although exchanging insults with Potter was far from what he wanted to do, it was familiar. This contemptuous relationship had been going on even before the war. There was something comforting about the predictability of it.

The familiarity of bickering relaxed Harry, too. At least, he stopped talking about Draco's father murdering him.

"So why'd you bring me here?" Harry asked, the meaningless insults already forgotten.

Shrugging, Draco allowed his arm to dangle over the rock and touch Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't recoil at the contact, leaving Draco feeling safe enough to respond honestly.

"I don't really know," he said. "When I asked you to come with me I expected you to say no. Then you said yes, and this was the first place I thought of. I come here every night now."

"And why did you think I'd refuse the invitation?" Harry asked, shifting to face him, still not shaking Draco's hand from his shoulder. "I'm sure you haven't tried to kill me more than three times. That's nothing. Lots of people have tried harder than that."

Draco ripped his hand away and glared. "I never tried to kill you. I only tried to kill once in my life and you saw how well that turned out."

"You probably saved my life the night I was brought here with Ron and Hermione," Harry said softly. "If you told your parents who we were we would've been killed."

"Lot of good it did Granger," he snapped, looking away. "My aunt nearly killed her anyway."

"That wasn't your fault."

"I just stood there. I watched it happen."

"Malfoy, I know it's kind of out thing to be rude and offensive to each other, but I honestly mean no offence by this. Bellatrix was a psychotic, homicidal bitch. She was completely insane. If you'd gotten in her way, she'd have killed you. She'd have murdered you in front of your parents-in front of her sister."

Draco shook his head. "No. She was my aunt. Yes, she was sadistic, but she wouldn't have killed me."

"She was Tonks' aunt, too," Harry reminded him. "That didn't stop Bellatrix from killing her, and leaving her infant son an orphan."

"It's not the same," Draco said. He could hear the sadness in his voice and hated himself for the weakness. Why was he even having this conversation? He never planned to talk about that night with anyone, least of all Potter.

"Why?" Harry challenged his voice rising in frustration. "Because you're a pure blood?"

"Yes," Draco cried sitting up straight. "No. I don't know."

Despite all the tension, Harry actually laughed. "Good," he replied. "I'm glad you're so clear about that."

"Shut up, Potter."

"Fine," he replied, "but don't blame yourself for that night. You did the best you could."

Silence greeted the statement. Once again, Draco was left speechless.

Before one of them was forced to speak or flee, their awkward conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching hooves. They both looked up to see Anastasia drinking from the lake.

Harry looked from the lake to Draco and then back again. His expression of awe was laughable, but Draco managed to keep a straight face.

"That's a bloody unicorn," he finally exclaimed.

"Congratulations Potter," Draco smirked. "You pass First Year Care of Magical Creatures."

"What's it doing here?" he asked so shocked that he ignored Draco's sarcasm.

"_She_ lives here," he replied. "Her name is Anastasia. Father gave her to Mother on their first wedding anniversary. As a child, Mother always wanted a unicorn, so many years later, Father got her one."

"Is that even legal?" Harry asked, clearly still amazed by the appearance of the majestic beauty.

"Probably not," Draco admitted.

Shaking his head, Harry spoke with genuine annoyance, "Of course, not. Why would the Great Lucius Malfoy worry about legality? He's always seen himself as above the law."

"Don't talk about my father like you know him," Draco snapped, his voice loud enough that Anastasia looked at him with concern. "He wanted to give my mother her childhood wish, make her happy, show his love. What's so wrong with that?"

Harry was silent, allowing Draco's anger to fester. Why did he ever think Potter would understand anything about his family? He'd probably march into the Ministry and report his mother's pet. Just what she needed. The loss of Anastasia would devastate her, and she was already so frightened over his father's looming trial. He'd selfishly brought Potter into their home, and she was going to pay for it.

Harry's next words shocked him.

"Actually, not a thing," he replied. "It's really pretty romantic. Sounds like the crazy type of think my dad would've done. I heard he pulled more than his fair share of stunts to get Mum's attention."

Draco laughed at that. He couldn't help himself. "Who would've thought Lucius Malfoy and James Potter would have anything in common?"

Stretching, Harry got to his feet and approached the unicorn. Anastasia remained still, watching him.

"Can I pat her?"

"Sure, but she might run off. She was only ever used to Mother, and then when the Dark Lord took over the manor she was mostly on her own. Death Eaters and unicorns don't really go together."

As Harry drew closer, the unicorn still remained. He held his hand out, moving slowly, and Anastasia sniffed him. Seeming satisfied, she began to drink from the lake while Harry stroked her mane. Even the bloody unicorn was defenceless against his charms.

"About our fathers," Harry said as he left the unicorn and returned to his seat beside Draco. "It's not that shocking really. When it comes to love we're all pretty much the same."

"Idiots?" Draco suggested, thinking about his own misguided actions in the name of love.

"Basically," Harry agreed with a chuckle.

They talked long into the night, or more accurately early into the morning. The last thing Draco remembered was the sound of Harry's voice. And then suddenly bright light was attacking his senses and pain was surging through his back from having slept on a rock.

It was morning. Even the birds had awakened, singing in the surrounding trees. He'd fallen asleep in the clearing. When he rolled over he saw that he wasn't the only one. Beside him, curled into a tight ball, with his glasses askew, Harry continued to sleep.

He didn't want to rudely wake him, but didn't have time for delicacy, not that delicacy was one of his strong points anyway. He had to get back to the main house before his parents discovered his absence and panicked. He had to go and he couldn't very well leave Harry Potter snoozing outside Malfoy Manor.

"Hey," he said, shaking Harry softly. "Time to wake-up."

Almost immediately, his eyes shot open and became clouded with confusion. That wonderful moment where you wake-up somewhere unexpected and can't remember how you got there.

"Malfoy?" he asked, forcing himself to sit up. "What the hell?"

Draco didn't explain right away. An unexpected pressure in his throat prevented him from speaking at all. Harry forgot their time together, and like a prat, he was letting it hurt him. What the hell was he expecting?

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Harry looked around, and realization dawned in his eyes. Maybe he remembered after all.

"I fell asleep here," he said stupidly.

"So did I," Draco replied. "Listen I have to get inside."

"Sure," Harry said, not even trying to hide the relief in his voice. "I should get back too, not that anyone is likely to notice that I'm gone." He turned, as if preparing to Apparate, but then stopped, looking back at Draco. "Thanks for last night, Malfoy. Maybe you're not quite as big a git as I always thought."

Before Draco had a chance to recover from the mystifying comment, Harry was gone. As always, he was left standing alone.

center***/center

Collapsing by the lake, Draco finally allowed the sobs to escape him. After spending the entire day comforting his mother, it felt good to release his own grief and confusion. His body was racked with exhaustion, but he knew sleep wouldn't come.

A loud pop startled him, and he whirled around with his wand in hand. He nearly dropped the wand when he found himself staring into the wide eyes of Harry Potter.

"W-what are you doing here?" he stammered, lowering his wand.

He had no idea what time it was. He only knew it was late. It had taken his mother hours to fall asleep with both himself and his father by her side. He'd been late leaving the house for his nightly vigil.

Realizing tears stained his cheeks, he wiped then away. The last time Potter stumbled upon him crying like this they'd nearly killed each other.

"I thought you might be here," Harry said, not meeting his eyes. "Obviously, you're upset. I should leave."

"Wait," Draco cried before Harry had a chance to slip away. "Stay."

Despite the fact that he'd arrived uninvited by his own freewill, Harry seemed to debate the request. He looked like he could Disapparate at any moment. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, and he sat beside Draco, allowing his hand to dangle in the water.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he said.

"You're not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked. There was no hint of malice in his voice.

Draco shook his head. "You wouldn't understand."

Harry laughed at that. "Really? I've had a pretty broad range of experiences these last few years. Why don't you try me?"

"Fine," he said. "Aunt Bella's memorial was today."

"Oh."

Harry took his hand from the water and stared at Draco. He said nothing else.

"Still want to talk about?" Draco demanded, sounding angrier than he'd intended.

"If you do," Harry said. He stretched out on the grass, making himself comfortable.

This time, Draco was the one left speechless. After everything she'd done, why would Harry want to hear about her? Just last night he'd called her a homicidal bitch. Between his confused thoughts and the closeness of Harry's outstretched body, he was at a total loss.

"Bellatrix was a lot of things," Harry said, breaking the silence. "One of those things was your aunt. You're allowed to feel her death."

The words were strange, especially coming from someone who was living with the woman who'd killed his aunt. Still the gentle permission offered to him opened a flood gate he seemed unable to close. Draco could feel all the day's emotions clamoring to escape. Before he realized it, he was talking to Harry about his dead aunt.

"I know she was crazy," he admitted. "That was pretty hard to miss. She did horrible things, but she was still family. She still loved us, even through her psychosis and obsession with the Dark Lord. You know my mother made an Unbreakable Vow with Snape in an attempt to save my life, but did you know Aunt Bella bond it? She went against the Dark Lord for my mother-for me. I can't forget that. She could be cruel, even to us, but she did love us."

Harry said nothing.

"The worst of it is, I don't feel bad she's gone," he went on, batting at tears. "She risked her life for mine, and I can't properly mourn her. I just keep seeing the awful things she did, and I'm glad she's gone. I'll always be grateful to her, but I'm still glad she's dead. Mother's been a wreck all day, and I feel relief. What's wrong with me?"

Harry rolled over to face him. "There's nothing wrong with you. Well, at least, not in connection to this. Your mother is the only person mourning Bellatrix. She hurt a lot of people-took a lot of lives. One act of kindness towards you and your mother can't make up for all the pain she's caused. Even if she lived, the rest of her life would've been spent in Azkaban."

"But Mother doesn't see any of that," Draco went on. "She's mourning the sister she loved. She's not thinking about the bad stuff. She's remembering Aunt Bella the way she should be remembered. Why can't I do that?"

"Well, that's simple," Harry told him, offering a slight smile. "You only knew Bellatrix for a short time, after she'd been in Azkaban, after she'd pledged her life to Voldemort." Draco cringed at the name, but Harry ignored him. "By the time you met her, any goodness in her was all but lost. Your mother has thousands of memories of Bellatrix, memories from a time before she knew Voldemort. Stop cringing. It's just a name. Anyway, your mum is remembering an entirely different person than you are."

"You talk about her so calmly. She killed your godfather. She wanted to hand Granger over to Greyback. You should hate her."

Harry shrugged. "Well, I certainly don't like her, but hate takes a lot of energy. I know. I've wasted a lot of my life on it. Sirius is gone. So is Bellatrix. Dwelling on what she did won't change that."

"When did you get all deep and emotional?" Draco asked. He was actually pretty impressed by Harry's observations, but unwilling to say it.

"Around the same time you did, I imagine," he shot back. "Do you feel any better?"

Without realizing it, sometime during the conversation he had started to feel better. Just having someone to talk to made a difference.

"I do," he admitted, leaning back so he was lying beside Harry.

"Good," Harry replied. "I'm glad I can still make someone feel better."

"You keep saying things like that." Draco rolled on his side so this face was only inches from Harry's. "I've been blubbering all night, but I'm not the only one dealing with stuff. Clearly, something isn't right in the world of Potter. Is something wrong with Granger of Weasley?"

Harry shook his head, shocking Draco by touching his fingers to his lips. The contact sent shivers through his body.

"Not tonight," Harry said. "Tonight was about you. Maybe tomorrow night. Fred's memorial is tomorrow."

"You're coming back tomorrow?" Draco couldn't believe it. One night was more than he dreamed. Two nights felt like a miracle. Was Harry really promising another?

"If you'll have me."

"Yes," Draco replied, somehow keeping his voice calm. "I'd like that."

center***/center

The next night Draco made no pretense of going to a pub. Once his parents retired for the evening, he helped himself to one of his father's finest bottles of wine and headed for the clearing.

He hesitated when he walked by The Room. In his mind, it would always be The Room. And he hated it. It was the place where he'd proven his cowardice once and for all when he stood listening to Granger's screams. Harry might not hate him for that moment, but he'd always hate himself. The Room was toxic now. Even his mother avoided it. Only Father seemed untroubled by The Room's brutal past.

Shaking his head, he tightened his grip of the wine bottle and forced himself to keep moving. Once he was at the clearing, he could drink away any lingering memories of that night. Briefly he wondered how drastically the population of alcoholics would increase over the coming months, and if he'd become one of the statistics.

When he stepped outside the fresh air hit him, clearing his mind and lifting his spirit. He forgot about The Room, and alcoholism, and even about his ever-present guilt. A smile even formed on his lips. He was going to meet Potter.

Bursting into the clearing, he was surprised to find Potter already there, seated on the rock, staring out at the lake. What was he thinking? It was still early, not even midnight. If one of his parents stumbled upon Potter, unescorted on Malfoy property, there'd be a great deal of awkward explaining for both of them.

"Sorry, I'm early," he said without turning around. It was as if he'd read Draco's thoughts. "I just couldn't stand it there anymore. Is this okay?"

Draco thought after their conversation the night before that Potter could say nothing else to shock him. But once again, he was left speechless. Not only was Potter not goading him, he was apologizing. Through all the horrible things they'd done to each other over the years, they'd never spoken a single apology. His anger faded, replaced by a feeling he couldn't identify.

Feeling unusually confident, he sat behind Potter and began massaging his shoulders. To his surprise, Harry sighed in relaxation rather than fleeing in terror.

"It's fine that you're here," Draco assured him. "You're shoulders are so tense. Was it really that bad?"

"Yes," he replied. "That feels nice, by the way. Please, don't stop."

He had no intention of stopping. He loved the feel of Harry's muscles in his hands as he worked to loosen the tight knots. This was the closest they'd ever been and he had no desire to break the contact.

"It's your turn to talk," he whispered.

"I don't want to talk," Harry said, leaning back towards Draco. "I just want to be here. When I ran into you at the Hog's Head I thought it was just more of my shit luck, but it ended up being the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. Hell, that's sad."

"Thanks a lot, Potter," Draco muttered. His voice sounded acceptably cold, hiding his hurt feelings. He was hurt, but he continued to massage Harry. He was nowhere near annoyed enough to give up that touch.

"Oh, don't get pouty," Harry teased as if he could sense Draco's feelings even as he tried to hide them. "Just think about it. Six months ago, would you have imagined sitting here with me?"

In truth, Draco had imagined similar situations before, but had no desire to admit it. If he scared Harry away, he'd be all alone-again. He decided on a safe, but truthful answer.

"Six months ago, I expected to be dead or in Azkaban by now."

"Well, aren't you just Mr. Sunshine tonight?"

"You asked."

Silence filled the night, but it was no longer awkward between them. Closing his eyes, Draco listened to Harry's steady breathing. A smile touched his lips. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of peace.

"Today was awful," Harry said with a sigh, apparently ready to talk after all. "Just watching George was one of the most painful things I've ever done. I've never thought about George without Fred. They were a packaged deal. He'll never recover, not really. How could he?"

Draco struggled for words. When he'd talked about his own issues Harry offered support and comfort. He wanted to do the same, but found himself at a loss. Support and comfort were not things he was good at. Snark and cruelty, now that he could handle.

Before he came up with anything to say, Harry continued, "You know, I get George being weird and distant. I can't comprehend his pain. But since Fred's death, the whole Weasley family is different towards me, especially Ginny. She won't even let me touch her. Ever since first year, they've treated me like part of the family, but not anymore. They all act like I can't comprehend their pain, like I've never experienced loss. Even Hermione acts like her suffering is beyond me. Seriously, Malfoy, where the hell do they get off? I understand loss. My parents were killed when I was an infant. My godfather died in front of me. Every father figure I've ever had is dead. I know about loss-better than they do. I just want to help them and they won't let me. I think the Weasleys blame me. I was the Chosen One, and I couldn't save Fred. He died for me like so many other people." As Harry spoke his words came faster and faster until he finally stopped talking and broke into tears.

Instead of rubbing his back, Draco pulled his shoulders until Harry was crying against his chest. He wrapped his arms around his friend, not really caring if he guessed the truth about him.

"It's not your fault," he whispered. "Don't let anyone tell you it is. There was a war happening. I know you think very highly of yourself, but you weren't responsible for every person fighting that battle. Even you can't save everyone. But you did save someone. You saved my life that night."

Draco turned slightly to search for the wine bottle. If ever Potter needed a drink, this was the time. When he reached for the bottle Harry grabbed his wrist. He turned to face him and was greeted by greedy lips pushing against his own. Before he even realized what was happening, Harry's tongue was pushing against his lips, begging to be inside his mouth. Without thinking, Draco welcomed him inside. They kissed hungrily, desperately, passionately. It was like nothing he'd experienced before and he had a far bit of experience.

Even caught in a moment of ecstasy, a small part of him knew something was wrong. He tried to ignore the feeling, but it only intensified. Finally, realization made it into his clouded brain. He was snogging with bloody Harry Potter. He was awake. He wasn't daydreaming. Yet his lips were all over Harry.

He pulled back abruptly, filled with rage. "What the hell are you playing at, Potter?"

"What?" His eyes flew opened. Staring up at Draco, he looked genuinely confused, but Draco wasn't about to fall for his act again.

"You're not gay, you prat," he spat, pushing him out of his arms. "Why are you doing this? Are you spying on me for the Ministry? Are you here to send my family to Azkaban? I trusted you."

Harry's expression changed from confusion, to hurt, to anger. He jumped to his feet, glaring at Draco.

"Malfoy, you're bloody mental. In case you missed it, I trusted you, too. And why the hell would I be spying for the Ministry? Have you said anything at all that would damn your family? Besides if I wanted to crucify you and your parents, I have enough information without seducing you for more. I haven't told you this yet, but I agreed to testify at your father's trail-on his behalf. Although, at the moment, I have no idea why."

Shame overtook Draco. He was wrong. He'd had something he'd wanted for years, and he just destroyed it.

"I-" he began.

"You don't talk now," Harry cut him off. "I'm not finished. You asked me why I kissed you-because I wanted to. No, maybe I don't think of myself as gay. Up until now, my relationships have been with girls, but so what? I'm attracted to someone because of who they are-not what's between their legs. I kissed you because I felt something for the man who was there for me when no one else was, but I guess that's not good enough for you."

"I'm sorry."

"Forget it," Harry snapped. "I'm leaving and this time I won't be back. Goodbye, Malfoy."

With a pop, Draco found himself alone.

center***/center

When sun poured through Draco's window the next morning he buried his head under the blankets, refusing to move. His parents would worry when he didn't show up for breakfast, but they'd also taken to worrying if he was in the shower for more than ten minutes. He loved them both dearly, but just couldn't bring himself to participate in their post-war paranoia, not after the night he'd had.

Actually the thought of facing his parents made him ill, especially his father. He'd screwed-up last night. His own paranoia cost him a chance at a relationship he'd always fantasised about, but he could live with that as much as it pained him. However, his romantic illusions weren't the only thing on the line. Harry said he was going to testify on Lucius' behalf. What if his outburst caused Harry to change his mind? He'd never be able to live with himself if he was the reason his father was sent to Azkaban.

Tears formed in his eyes as he desperately tried to sleep. Sleep was his only escape from the disaster he'd created and he couldn't even manage that.

He didn't know how much time passed before there was a light tapping on his door.

"Draco, sweetheart, can I come in?"

Mother. Well, he couldn't very well deny her.

"Yes," he called.

She stepped into his room, looking especially thin, dressed in black robes. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She'd been crying again. Rather for her dead sister or the uncertainty of their future, he didn't know. She sat on the edge of his bed, draping her arm around his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "We missed you at breakfast."

"Fine," he lied, even forcing a smile. "I just overslept. That's all."

She smiled. "It's not nice to lie to your mother, Draco. Something's bothering you."

"I-" he began, but stopped short. What was he suppose to say? That he was upset because he blew his chance with Harry Bloody Potter? Even if Harry was a pure blood female, he wouldn't want to have that conversation with his mother. But what was his other option? Tell her Father could be going to Azkaban because of his quick temper?

"It's all right," she told him, squeezing his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me. You've been through so much. Just know that when you're ready you can talk to me about anything."

"I love you," he said. The first true words that came to mind.

"I love you, too." She kissed his cheek. "Always."

She rose from the bed to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "Maybe you should stay in bed today. You look tired."

And Draco did just that. He spent the entire day huddled under his blankets with only regrets for company. He didn't rise until after his mother checked on him before bed.

Once the house was silent and he was certain his parents were asleep, he forced himself out of bed. After spending the whole day haunted by his thoughts, he could think of only one thing, the bottle of wine he'd abandoned in his special clearing. He was convinced that bottle was the only thing that could get him through the night.

Too tired and depressed to dress or walk, he Apparated to the clearing wearing only his underwear. It wasn't like he had to worry about anyone seeing him, except maybe Anastasia. Harry was the only person outside his family to ever see the clearing, and he'd made his intentions perfectly clear.

The wine rested against the rock where he'd left it. Grabbing the bottle, he plopped down and popped the cork. Taking a long swig of the liquid, he was surprised by the fast-acting effects. The wine burned on the way down, but also warmed his stomach and dulled his thoughts. No wonder Father paid a small fortune for the stuff.

His original plan had been to down the whole bottle and go back to bed, but the alcohol was having unexpected effects. He no longer wanted to sleep. Hell, he wasn't even worried or angry. He was damned near giddy. Glancing around his favorite childhood haunt, he concluded that he fancied nothing more than a late night swim. Hell, he was already dressed for it.

He waded into the lake with a ridiculous grin on his face. Despite the chilly night air, the water was warm and inviting. Once he'd waded to the center of the lake he dived beneath the surface. He just kept diving, coming up only for air. The water cascading over his nearly naked body was cleansing, like he was washing away all his mistakes.

As he was about to dive under, strong hands grabbed him from behind. He was pulled backward into the muscular chest of another man. Lips pressed to his ear and a single word was spoken, "Hi."

Harry! He came back. Draco could feel his body tensing with excitement, but quickly got control of himself. This time he wouldn't let his emotions ruin everything.

"I thought you said you were never coming back here, Potter," he said, trying unsuccessfully to sound cold.

"So did I," Harry replied, releasing him and moving back so their bodies were no longer touching. "Guess I changed my mind. It's been known to happen. So is this an innocent late night swim or were you trying to drown yourself."

"I hadn't decided," he smirked, although the idea of taking his own life never occurred to him.

Harry closed his hand around Draco's wrist and tugged softly. "Come on out of the water. We need to talk."

"For all you know, I could be naked under here," Draco snapped, but was unsure why he said it.

"That's perfectly fine with me," Harry said with a shrug. "If you'd been more receptive, I might've seen that last night."

Score one for Potter. He hadn't seen that comment coming. Apparently, while he spent the day sulking, Harry was practicing his snark. Not daring another smartass comment of his own, Draco wordlessly allowed Harry to lead him from the lake.

They collapsed together on Draco's rock, both wearing only briefs. They sat with their legs touching, not looking at each other.

"I'm sorry," Draco said.

"Yeah, you should be."

Okay, not the response he was going for, but Draco trudged on. He had one more important thing to say and he was going to say it.

"And thank you. Thank you for speaking out for my father. Thank you for coming back."

Harry remained silent. He wasn't making this easy. Wasn't he the one who said they needed to talk? Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Why did you?" he asked. "Come back, I mean."

For the first time, Harry turned to look at him. His face was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. The expression was oddly endearing beneath the oversized glasses.

"Merlin, you can be thick, Malfoy," he said, shaking his head. "What do I have to do to make you understand? I want you. You've been there for me in ways that no one else has. I just started to feel something. And I know you feel it too. Don't even try to lie about it. You respond to me, Malfoy."

Draco laughed. He couldn't help himself. The conversation had just gotten so ridiculous. If Harry thought he was going to deny his feelings, he was about to get a shock."

"You prat," he said. "Just because you developed this attraction all of yesterday doesn't mean I did too. I introduced myself to you on the first day of school. Even then I was looking for more than a friendship. Why do you think I acted like such a prat all those years? Malfoys don't respond well to rejection."

Harry stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. The expression made Draco smile. He'd shocked the Great Harry Potter. He'd also admitted his deepest secret and Harry hadn't run screaming into the night.

"I'd never have guessed," Harry said at last. "Even Hermione didn't see that one. No way would she have kept that to herself. You're one hell of an actor."

"Another Malfoy trait," he replied. He reached out, rubbing his hand over Harry's check. "So are we just going to talk all night?"

Smiling wickedly, Harry came to his lips, kissing him quickly and softly. He slowly moved his lips across Draco's face until he was inches from his ear and then he whispered, "Draco."

Pleasure surged through Draco like never before. The sound of his name-his real name-on Harry's lips awakened passion inside of him that he knew existed.

"Say it again." There was an edge of pleading in his voice, but he didn't care.

Harry nibbled his ear before whispering the name again. He worked his way down Draco's chest pausing after each kiss to mutter his name.

"Harry," he choked on the name, finally able to say it out loud instead of just in his head.

Harry's hands brushed against his shoulders as he continued to explore with his mouth. This was far from Draco's first time, but he'd never felt so naked and vulnerable before. So out of control. He could feel himself hardening as Harry's erection pushed against his leg.

Lowering his hands, Harry tugged on his shorts and something snapped inside Draco's mind. Once again, he was consumed by thoughts that this wasn't right, but for entirely different reasons. This wasn't some quickie with Pansy before Potions Class. This was the night he'd fantasised about for years.

"Wait," he said, sliding Harry's hands away.

The man backed off, but looked adorably bewildered. Draco suppressed a laugh.

"You're playing right?" he cried. "You know, I always assumed you were easy, but you take more coaxing than Ginny, and she hardly speaks to me these days."

"Git," Draco said, playfully nipping at Harry's chin.

"Tease," he replied.

"I'm not teasing. I want you. Oh, how I want you. I just thought it'd be nice if our first time was in a bed." He pulled Harry close to him. They were both starting to shiver in the night air.

"Aww, you're a romantic after all," Harry said scarcely holding back his laughter.

"Who's the tease, now?" Draco snapped, but there was no anger in his voice. "So do you want to come inside so I can ravish you or would you rather tremble out here?"

"Why Draco, I had no idea you were into necrophilia."

"What?" Where the hell had that come from?

"Well, obviously you're fine with continuing our rendezvous with my corpse because that's exactly what I'll be if Lucius Malfoy sees me half-naked with his precious son."

"Ugh," Draco groaned, pushing Harry gently, still keeping him close. "First you want to talk about your girlfriend, and then my father. You sure know how to turn a guy on, Harry."

"I thought I was doing just fine in that department," Harry replied, brushing his hand against Draco's crotch, gently squeezing his erection.

"Enough," Draco cried. "I give. Just stop this and come to bed with me."

"And your father?"

"Is asleep," Draco muttered, "or engaging in his own sexual exploits with my mother. But even if he was sitting in the dining room watching, he wouldn't hurt you. Although I'm sure he'd have some choice words for me in the morning. It's actually very cute that you're afraid of my father. After defeating the Dark Lord, you shouldn't have too much trouble with him."

Harry said nothing.

Draco sighed. "Don't worry about Father. I'm pretty sure he already knows about my preferences. Besides, at this point, nothing is going to shock him. Look at it this way: I've been waiting for this night since first year. Do you really think I'd risk anything happening to you when I'm this close?"

Draco could feel Harry relaxing in his arms. Finally.

"Now, can we please go inside before I get frostbite on parts of me that are required for the things I want to do to you?"

Harry got to his feet and slid his hand into Draco's. Together they walked towards Malfoy Manor.


End file.
